


All That Glitters (Is Not Gold)

by Ameliapll



Category: Heathers (1988)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Eating Disorders, F/F, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Multi, POV Second Person, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, apart from the swearing, heather mac's pov, movie based but can be read as musical, none of this is too in-depth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 07:16:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10826412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ameliapll/pseuds/Ameliapll
Summary: You’re in love with Heather Duke and Heather Duke looks at Heather Chandler like she's the sun, which is beyond unfair since you’re the one who wears yellow.A series of events from when Heather met Heather to when Heather tries to kill herself. Movie based.





	All That Glitters (Is Not Gold)

All That Glitters (Is Not Gold).

 

 

Heather Duke moves in the first grade, auburn hair falling into a shy face. No one really talks to her, they’ve all made friends.

Martha is the one closest to her, and even then she spends more time with Veronica.

So you approach her one lunchtime and smile.

“Hi,” you say shyly. “I’m Heather,”

She looks up and smiles, and _whoa._ “I’m Heather, too.” she replies.

 

 

You’re eleven years old when Heather Chandler moves. She seems _exotic_ to you. Just like Heather did once.

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye. _Okay, maybe like she still does._

Heather Chandler has big brown eyes and red lipstick in a small face. She wears a blazer and skirt and heels.

Heather Duke has narrow blue eyes and natural pink lips and she wears a green shirt and jeans.

You’re just _Heather_ with blonde hair and a yellow dress. You don’t know why that’s no longer a comfort but an insult.

“She dresses weird,” you mutter, to shake off the blow.

“Yeah,” Heather says weirdly, and you look up to see her with soft eyes as she watches Heather Chandler and chews on a pen. “Weird,”

 

You’re twelve and six months when Heather Chandler befriends you and Heather. She’s still exotic, but in a different way.

She’s maybe younger in years, but older in mind, and she has this cool air of something magnetic which draws you in.

You’re in love with Heather Duke and Heather Duke looks at Heather Chandler like she's the sun, which is _beyond_ unfair since you’re the one who wears yellow.

She kisses boys behind the school and wears short skirts with her blazer and is _effortless_ in this way you’re not sure you’ll ever be.

“The three of us, we’re all Heathers.” She says. “Us girls need to stick together,”

And from then on, that’s what you do.

 ~~Heather,~~ Heather and Heather _~~forever~~ _

 

You’re fourteen when you’re in the bathroom, applying your makeup. Heather Chandler stands next to you, fluffing her hair when you hear a retching noise.

“Oh my God, Heather, are you okay?” you ask, bolting for her stall.

“Leave it. She’s fine.” Heather says dismissively and you want to slap her.

“She’s sick, she’s not fine.” You protest.

“She just has an _urge,”_ Heather smirks and you hear the sound of Heather in the stall gagging.

She opens the door, and glares at you.

“What’s your _fucking_ damage?” she spits and you never bring it up again.

 

You’re sixteen when Heather kisses you for the first time. No, not the one you’ve been in love with since forever, but Heather Chandler.

“Pretend I’m Duke.” She says smugly, when you’re hesitating.

And you do.

A week later, Veronica joins the group, wearing blue and black and grey.

Like a fucking tornado.

 

You’re seventeen when Heather kills herself.

She drank some bleach and crashed through a coffee table and died.

Heather Duke’s light dies and you can’t pick up the pieces because you’re in pieces

She comes to your house and pukes and pukes and pukes until you’re convinced there’s nothing left.

“Maybe you should see a doctor,” you suggest quietly and she just looks at you because there’s no one else to impress now.

“Maybe I should,” she says and laughs hollowly.

 

Kurt Kelly is passed out on top of you and you can’t breathe and you need to leave and ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

So you text Heather, _sos._ She comes by five minutes later, eyes flashing in anger at the site of JD.

She yanks him up, and takes you out of there, wrapping a blanket around you in the car. You stay at her house that night, feeling icy cold but also _warm and soft and good._

“Kurt Kelly is a rapist asshole,” she says sleepily, stroking your hair. “You deserve better, H.”

_You’re better._

A week later, he and Ram Sweeney are dead in a homosexual suicide pact and you’re alone again. JD talked to Heather and everything has changed.

Now she wears red and you’re in black and when did the fucking tables turn

You blame JD for everything. It may be irrational, but you do.

He stole your friends and left you alone

A small, twisted dark part of you wants to hurt him in the same way

To take away all that’s important to him and then watch him fall apart and laugh

_Poor Little Heather_

You watch your childhood crush giggle with the Wide Reciever and you can’t _take it anymore_

So you shove your chair back and run

 

“Fucking childproof caps.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> First Heathers work! This is based on the movie since I haven't seen the musical, but it can be read as musical based.


End file.
